


something new and green

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Belly worship, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant with Multiples, Sex to induce labor, Unnaturally Huge Belly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: Mage children take longer to cook, Terrance had warned him. They get bigger. They come out harder. And Owen has two of them in him.
Relationships: Mpregnant Male Assassin/His Doting Male Mage Husband
Comments: 2
Kudos: 141
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	something new and green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



Owen isn't getting out much anymore.

He'd always thought that if, somehow, he ever managed to get pregnant—a remote possibility, in his line of work—he'd sail through it. His body was strong, healthy, lethal. There was a reason the Authority had been so insistent on recruiting him. Early on, it had been clear that he was built for taking a beating, built for withstanding pain. If he could handle a bullet or ten, surely he could handle carrying a damn baby or two.

He just...he wasn't expecting to get so _big._ Or to stay pregnant for so long.

"You're doing beautifully," Terrance says, running his preternaturally warm hands over the massive, aching swell of Owen's belly, rubbing cool and soothing cream into skin that's stretched beyond what should be its limit. Mage children take longer to cook, Terrance had warned him. They get bigger. They come out harder. And Owen has two of them in him.

If Terrance didn't treat him so good, Owen would probably finish that assignment he was given all those years ago, and take Terrance out, as quickly and efficiently as the belly allowed. He's been carrying for over a year and is now two weeks overdue, there's not a single part of him left that doesn't _ache_ , and he could house a whole planet inside of his belly. He hasn't been able to fit a decent shirt over his gut in months, hasn't been able to bring himself to do much more than watch the snow falling outside Terrance's castle in weeks. Every single thing is an ordeal—just _breathing_ is an ordeal.

 _"I can handle it,"_ he'd said, when Terrance recommended transferring their accidental pregnancy to himself. Terrance is so tiny, powerful in magic but not in physicality, the complete opposite of Owen. Owen is built for endurance, trained to withstand all manner of torture, a soldier bound for knighthood before the Authority got their claws into him and steered him in another direction, still strong since his escape when he first started showing. If there was an unpleasant challenge ahead of him and his husband, he was going to be the one who faced it.

But he hadn't expected it to be so hard.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," he says now, forcing the humiliating admission through gritted teeth. There's pain, and then there's _this_ —this all-consuming hijacking of his body, every resource devoted to the warring children inside him, leaving him swollen and aching and so exhausted it feels like his soul has been sucked from his marrow through the taut skin of his enormous belly. He never would've imagined someone could grow as large as him and live to tell the tale. Months ago, he started to look like he'd pop. Now he's practically immobile, his belly so big it looks absurd, so heavy his body can barely handle the strain, having to lie on his side and endure. "'m gonna blow up."

"You are not," Terrance says, so certain Owen can't help but believe him. It would hardly be wise for the children to kill their host, would it?"

That gives Owen pause. "Host?" he says. "Thought these were kids."

"They are," Terrance replies. "But surely you must agree that pregnancy is somewhat parasitic, yes?"

Terrance _does_ have a point. "Sure, I guess." Owen shifts, trying and failing to get comfortable, setting off another wave of movement from the babies. "You sure there's nothing you can do?" he asks, just shy of whining, and rubs at the soreness where one kid has been kicking the most, perilously close to his ribs. "Can't you, I don't know, cut them out of me or something?"

"Magical children cannot be birthed surgically," Terrance says, and presses a gentle kiss to the center of Owen's belly. "They come only when they're ready. But..." He kisses Owen again, on the tip of his protruding navel this time. "There is a way to possibly speed up the process."

"And you're just telling me this now?"

"You've been so uncomfortable," Terrance says, "and I feared you would mistake it as an attempt at getting gratification only for myself." He nuzzles Owen's belly with his nose, kisses the stretched and shining skin between every sentence. "You are so very beautiful like this. Hard to resist. But this is not a reliable method for inducing labor. So I didn't—"

"Neither was the food," Owen grumbles. All those spices had done was give him heartburn and rile up the kids. The eggplant might as well have been a joke. The chicken wasn't much different than any other chicken he'd ever had. Judging by the way Terrance's mouth is moving over his giant orb of a belly, Owen's got a pretty good idea what he's going to suggest. And if it might work... "Look, I'm open to just about anything now. I'd dangle myself from the ceiling upside down if it might get these kids out faster. I'd do anything."

"Even the act that—as you always put it—'got you into this mess?'" Terrance's breath is hot on his skin, hotter than anyone else's, thanks to the mage in him, damp. His deep voice seeps into Owen's body, low in his belly, coiling hot and tantalizing in the depths of his core. It's been months since that voice hit him like this, and his long-neglected cock gives an encouraging twitch, and starts getting hard.

"Yeah," Owen says. "Just don't put another baby in me, okay?"

Terrance chuckles, and slides his lips over Owen's belly, following the meandering path of his hands. Between one breath and the next, Owen's pajama pants and underwear vanish, leaving him naked. Terrance's suit is probably gone, too, but Owen can't see him over the bulge of his gut. "I think two children will be sufficient for a while," he says, a ragged note in his voice. "Although, the thought of putting you in this state again is very tempting."

Owen snorts. "Right."

Terrance peers up at him, over the edge of Owen's belly and the wire rims of Terrance's glasses, his green eyes barely visible through the unruly curtain of his black hair. "You've no idea what the sight of you like this does to me, do you?" He kisses Owen's belly again, drops soft, reverent kisses down the line of darkened skin bisecting Owen's abdomen. "You're extraordinary like this." His mouth moves over Owen's belly, leaving more kisses in its wake, sending a shiver from Owen's gut through his blood, making Owen's heart pound. Terrance's hands never stop moving, either, his soft, magic-hot palms curving slowly over every inch of Owen's belly like he's trying to memorize the shape of it with his touch.

"There's something about a man who's carrying your child," Terrance continues, "your children. I can't explain it." He drags his teeth over Owen's belly, skirting around a meandering knife scar, then soothes the sting with his tongue. Owen hisses at each, at sharp teeth and soft tongue, a heat he'd thought he wouldn't want again for a very long time building up inside him. "It is, perhaps, primal. But you look so...magical. I want to do so many things to you. To touch you in so many ways. Would you like me to touch you, my darling? Would you like me to make you feel incredible?"

Swallowing hard, Owen nods. "Yes," he says. "Yeah."

"You're so big," Terrance says, and the pure awe in his voice, the smile Owen can hear so easily keeps Owen from feeling insulted. "You're huge. And I did this to you." Terrance's mouth moves lower, lush and hot on Owen's sensitive belly, sliding closer and closer to Owen's aching cock. "You've no idea how much I want to do it to you again."

"Not right now," Owen says. "I can't—"

"Oh, but what if you could?" Terrance kisses the tip of Owen's cock, and Owen sucks in a harsh breath. For one harebrained moment, it sounds good, amazing, makes him flush all over. "You would be so incredible. You would _look_ so incredible. In defiance of all the laws of nature, and beautiful while you did it. And if anyone could handle it, it is you."

To Owen's dismay, Terrance's mouth wanders away from his cock, back to his belly. He lets out a low whine, and Terrance chuckles against his navel. "Or maybe I could keep you pregnant forever," Terrance muses. "Use my powers to keep these babies inside you for the rest of your life, your belly swollen and full and breathtaking." It sends a thrill of fear through Owen, mingling with the lust in his gut. Then, with a gentleness contrary to his words, Terrance lightly squeezes Owen's belly. "So full and so big, forever. If I were a little more evil, maybe..."

Owen shakes his head. "No. Don't think I could do that. Don't think it works that way, either."

"No," Terrance says. "And fucking you full of countless babies or keeping you pregnant forever would not be practical, would it? Pity. I suppose I must settle for meeting this wonderful duo soon...for now."

Then he sucks on Owen's navel, gently mouths at the sensitive nub that used to be hidden, teases it with the tip of his tongue like it's a nipple or cock. Owen shudders and groans, belly and body going tight with raw need, and Terrance sucks harder. Owen loses himself to the feeling, the oddness of it, the pleasure. It feels odd somehow, like it's a part that shouldn't be touched, but it's good, hot and maddening and a reminder of what Terrance should be doing to his cock.

Terrance lingers there, driving Owen mad with gentle suction and occasional swipes of tongue until Owen can't take it anymore. "Please," he whispers, unable to manage more. "Terrance, please."

With one last lick to Owen's navel, Terrance moves on, another laugh brushing Owen's skin. "Please what, my dearest?"

What indeed. All the possibilities stand out in front of Owen suddenly, a bright tangle as clear as mud. A sharp kick from within to one of his sore spots brings back his focus. "Get me into labor," he replies. "Fuck me or suck me or _something_. I just...I need...gods, I don't know what I need."

"It's not guaranteed," Terrance reiterates, the strokes of his hands becoming a careful massage. Seeking more, Owen pushes his belly insistently against Terrance's hands, and Terrance kisses it and keeps up the pressure. _Not guaranteed_ should be disappointing, but the way Terrance keeps touching him, like he's worshipping at the altar of Owen's belly, brings relief and arousal all at once.

Then, Terrance pulls away, but he doesn't go far, or for long. He climbs over Owen's legs, and sidles up to his back, then grips Owen's ass in those hot hands of his. Owen groans. "Yes," Terrance says, and kisses the back of Owen's neck, the curve of his shoulder. "It's a shame your condition prevents me from doing this from the front anymore so I can look at you, but maybe—"

The window quietly becomes a mirror.

"There we go," Terrance says, with a slow-spreading smile. "Look at how beautiful you are."

While Terrance plays with his ass, Owen makes himself look. He hardly recognizes himself. The face is familiar, the too-long black curls falling into his brown eyes, some of the scars, but the body...his body is dominated by his belly. It is as massive as it feels, the scarred sphere drawing the eye, shining with lotion and sweat and its tightness. With his mussed hair and his wet, bitten mouth, and his swollen, enormous belly, he looks _obscene_ , already debauched. With Terrance behind him, spreading the cheeks of his ass, slicking him up with a brief brush of magic—dear gods. He can almost—almost—see what Terrance is talking about.

Then the first finger slips into his hole, his body not resisting, and Owen forgets to think about anything else. Automatic, he sinks back as it pushes forward, seeking more. Fuck, he'd almost forgotten how sensitive he is these days, thanks to the sheer misery of pregnancy. Terrance said it was something about blood flow and hormones that did it, that has him arching into that sweet, wet stretch like someone far more wanton than he is, that has him going, "More," already, instead of letting Terrance set the pace.

But one damn finger isn't enough, especially not one the size of Terrance's. Owen needs to be filled, needs to _feel_. "Don't waste your time on that," he says, as Terrance slides another finger _in_ , making it better but not better enough. He wants Terrance's cock, craves it, maybe needs it. For a small guy, Terrance has a big cock, and Owen wants it in him. His words come out breathless, impatient, but he doesn't give a crap how he sounds. "Need you to fuck me. Please."

The first notes of hesitance creep into Terrance's voice. "I don't want to hurt you," he says. "You're pregnant. I—"

"It's okay, Terrance," Owen says. "I'm asking you to."

Their gazes meet in the mirror, Terrance's green eyes wide, and Owen watches Terrance swallow hard and feels a little thrill go through him. "Okay," Terrance says, lining up their bodies. "Okay, I'll..."

Terrance pushes in, and both of their breaths turn to shuddering gasps. It's been so long it's overwhelming, almost unfamiliar, Owen's body burning in the best way around the thick length of Terrance's cock. He's glad for Terrance's stillness, needing a moment to desperately suck in air as much as Terrance.

But Owen doesn't have much patience these days. His need rushes back quickly, making him say, "Move," almost without his own permission.

Terrance does, pulling back and thrusting in with agonizing slowness at first, letting out low, whimpering sounds that go straight to the throb in Owen's cock. He's so thick it almost hurts, the burn running hot through every nerve in Owen's body, bright and exhilarating and not nearly enough. "Harder," Owen says. "Please, I need—"

"Yeah," Terrance says, the lack of formality sending another wave of pleasure through Owen's body. "Yeah, okay. I'll..." His thrusts grow harder, faster, then he adjusts the angle and—

 _Oh_. Owen lets out a broken groan. That—yes. It's hard to think as Terrance hits that spot with each deep, intensifying thrust, hard to find the words to describe the feeling that courses through Owen's body. Good. It's _good_ , shameless shocks of startling pleasure, and Owen pushes back into it as much as the weight of his belly allows. It's so hard to participate himself, and he hates it, lets out a fleeting frustrated sound that quickly turns to another moan against the force of Terrance's rhythm taking him closer and closer and not close enough.

Terrance's hand finds Owen's belly again, sliding erratically over the sweat-soaked curve as he fucks and fucks and fucks Owen as hard and quick as the awkward angle allows. Their eyes meet in the mirror again, and the look in Terrance's eyes makes Owen shiver.

"Beautiful," Terrance says, hand gradually drifting down, hopefully toward Owen's neglected cock. "You're so perfect like this, Owen. You don't even realize..."

His fingers close around Owen's cock, and Owen lets out a truly embarrassing sound. He had no idea how much he wanted this until he was getting it, Terrance fucking him and gripping him tight with his mage-hot hand, using the force of his thrusting hips to give Owen's cock erratic strokes. "Yes," Owen whispers, "Yes, yes, yes," each one blurring into the next until all he can do is breathe through the steady climb to the peak. Close, he's close, so close...

And then he's there. With a shout, Owen comes, blinded to everything but the heat of his orgasm as he spills hard and wet all over the bottom of his belly. Nothing else matters. Not the aches in his body. Not the impatience. Not the fear. Just the sensation of this.

He has just enough awareness to tell when Terrance joins him on the other side of the edge. Terrance goes still behind him, letting out a broken little sound as he comes inside Owen. Distantly, Owen feels every spurt, the warmth of Terrance's magic heating the pulsing come as it fills him.

When they've finished, they both lie in a breathless heap on the bed, lazy and spent. Owen's eyes drift shut, heavy with ease but not sleep. Terrance wraps himself around Owen's back, the contact of his overheated body relieving the tightness of Owen's muscles. As usual, one of his hands winds up on Owen's belly, running over it in exploratory circles, not caring about the wetness. Owen holds his belly, too, just feeling the babies kicking inside without trying to calm them, too relaxed to do anything else.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that before Terrance breaks the comfortable silence. "How are you feeling, my dearest?" he asks, and kisses the back of Owen's head. Before Owen can register it happening, the come vanishes from his skin, and he bets that if he looked—not happening—the bedsheets would be spontaneously clean, too. "Any contractions?"

Owen flops his head in a half-assed attempt at a shake. "No," he says. He's in no pain at all, for once, though he knows that won't last for long. "Guess it didn't work."

"It might take some time," Terrance says, in a reassuring tone. Owen huffs. "We could always try again later, if you'd like—or just to pass the time, if nothing else. Would you like that?"

Owen doesn't even have to consider the idea. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I would."


End file.
